


Loki's Game

by Sarshi



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - All Fandoms, Thor (2011)
Genre: Loki Does What He Wants, M/M, Plotty, Romance, Slash, Xanatos Gambits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-07 12:18:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/431106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarshi/pseuds/Sarshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The failure to conquer the Earth went pretty much as planned, so it's time to move the plotting forward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Think Again

**Author's Note:**

> 'ello. I should really be working on other things, but I was also thinking that I should start writing a mastermind sometime if I want to introduce a few in an original story. So here I am, experimenting with Loki.
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
> (by the by, if Loki doesn't seem very sane, it's because he's not ;) )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! It's been nearly three years since I started this story - and since then it's been in my head. Not constantly, but occasionally. And it's been in my head a lot lately. 
> 
> I realized I know how it ends and I have all these awesome images in my head, which you never got to read (even in the less awesome form of my writing). So I'm giving Loki's Game a new chance and a new polish - some re-editing to start with, and then I'll move on with future chapters.
> 
> Just like last time when I was writing this, I really ought to be taking care of other things, such as editing my novel, Flight from Hell, for definitive publication, but who's counting?

He had nearly killed Tony Stark.

Not personally. But one thing had led to another and then Iron Man was riding a bomb to his impending doom, high up into the sky, beyond a portal, vanishing from the world like a candle in the face of a raging storm. For a second, he could have been extinguished, he _was_ extinguished, gone as if he'd never been - only to appear back into the world, spluttering back to life as collective breaths were held, and thank fate for liking a show-off.

Loki thought there was a lesson there: enemies were not only clever, but also very dumb. And here was another lesson: Loki had started it, therefore it was _his_ fault. He had nearly killed Tony Stark.

There had been no way to foresee it, of course. Particular details of battles could never be entirely clear. But the general scope?... He should've seen it coming. He had made sure that the Chitauri wouldn't harm any of the Avengers, but he hadn't for a single second thought that humans would go right ahead and try to harm their own. He hadn't thought they had the ugly cynicism of considering a battle lost before they could feel the raw taste of defeat on their tongues, that they'd hastily destroy their own to attempt a desperate escape  _from something they could defeat_.

After all, for Loki it had been _clear_ that he would lose. He had assumed that it would be clear for everybody else as well. There was one Loki - and there were a lot of Avengers. One mischief god versus a thunder god and a more than sufficient handful of worthy heroes. The equation was _easy_. It was _clear_. Loki would be defeated.

He paced around his cell and wondered at what point this _absurdly_ simple fact hadn't been clear to his enemies. Surely his half-hearted attempts at war couldn't fool anyone?

'Your kind are idiots,' Loki thought at his mental image of Tony. ' _I_ knew I'd fail. Why didn't you? Tell me, Iron Man, is all of humanity put together unable to put two and two together?...'

But, being a mental image, Tony Stark failed to reply. Loki could _picture_ a hundred replies, ranging from apology to anger, but there was no way to actually know what Tony Stark would really say. More the pity.

There were three scenarios possible to Loki's little war on Earth. Scenario one: losing fair and square - which was what eventually happened. Scenario two: with the aid of the Chitauri, he would be too strong for Earth's initial forces - they'd send a huge army next and crush him beneath their heels. Loki would be found by men with guns and shot until he dropped to his knees, looking dead. He wouldn't  _be_ dead, because his magic could defend him against nearly anything, and because he knew when to fall to his knees.

In case of need, he would close the portal himself, with his staff. The silly old man he'd made into a servant was mighty proud of making the staff the key to the portal - a grand thought, Loki agreed, only he'd planted it there himself. It was good to have a handy way of controlling your own devices.

'You didn't see that,' he told imaginary Natasha. 'For all your cleverness, you didn't see it. Why would I fail to see what my brainless minions are doing?'

Loki knew now that he had overestimated his enemies. Underestimating enemies was one of Thor's greatest problems. Overestimating them was obviously Loki's.

Scenario number three: he somehow didn't lose, despite his best intentions, and then he'd rule Earth for some time, while they were busy planning ways to assassinate him. Eventually, they'd muster up the courage to contact Asgard or poison his wine. And then he'd be free. 

None of these scenarios included a stupid human sacrifice \- a sacrifice which would also be pointless since the portal wouldn't close when the bomb went off. A wave of Chitauri would be killed, then they'd attack again, this time without being faced by anybody but the Hulk and maybe Thor.

A bomb. He had nearly killed Tony Stark because he had severely overestimated the intelligence and sanity of politicians. 

It was strange that this, of all things, should come to mind again and again. Hear it again, world: he had nearly killed Tony Stark.

'You were supposed to be a genius and a heartless bastard,' he told imaginary Tony. 'You should know better. Not dying is better than dying heroically. Thor should have done the idiotic gesture, not you. He's resilient, that one. He could've survived the bomb. I think.' Loki paused in his mental rant. Would he have preferred losing his brother over Iron Man?...

But he didn't have to choose, did he? The hypothetical question remained hypothetical. It was all over and done and Loki was the sort to focus on the present and the future, not on could-have-beens and should-have-beens.

...He kept pacing and pacing around his cell. The prison in Asgard was better than the one the humans would have offered. The cell was comfortable because nobody had seen the point of making it uncomfortable. There was a carpet on the floor and his bed was soft. There was no way to hide anything, like the fact that you were digging a tunnel out. The very fact that everything was beautifully decorated and carefully elegant insured that any new scratch stood out. The elegance insured that you didn't want to destroy things, because the guards would get angry and then you'd have to be beaten up a little to understand what was good for you.

Above the cells were seven underground floors belonging to the army, in which new recruits trained. After that you could escape into military buildings. Then onto the island where the army had its major headquarters. If you managed to sneak out of your cell you had to pass through any number of trained and untrained guards and warriors. Loki felt he should applaud the thoroughness of the system and its impenetrability, but he knew exactly how to escape. He was Loki, former prince of Asgard, and nobody should own a prison that they could not get out of.

Not that he wanted to get out yet. The cell was comfortable and certain things had to happen before he could officially escape. Otherwise there wouldn't be a secure spot to rest.

...He had nearly killed Tony Stark, the dark side of the brain told him when he was pausing from his other musings.

'So I did. Why does it bother me? I will plan better in the future. I will learn my enemies better, I will understand them better. That is the lesson.'

The Chitauri were down, the Frost Giants were frightened. They could have been dead, but Odin was Odin. Thor was bound to Earth now and Asgard was unsettled by the fact that Loki was imprisoned. He would go after the dark elves next and draw them into the battle, watching humans and Asgardians defeat them together.

Somewhere in the middle of all that he would get what he wanted.

'What are you doing?' the voice of Tony asked. 'Why all the lies and the suicidal manipulations?' Loki really wished they could have this conversation. He wanted to be asked, wanted to tell. Wanted to get just drunk enough to explain things to Tony and pretend he'd never meant to confess. What would the man say?...

He pictured Tony in his penthouse apartment, drink in his hand, looking relaxed on his couch and aware that Loki would never really hurt him, that Loki  _knew_  Tony was protected from dying by simply falling out the window - or Loki could have caught him in time, if need be, pretending to be a cat toying with his prey. The Tony in his imagination trusted him because Loki _wanted_ the man in his imagination to trust him right now. 'Because I have a game going on, clever man.'

'Obviously.'

'Yes, I know all about you and your little friends now. I've gotten you angry, I've seen you doing your best against the Chitauri. You have no secrets. I've learned you. Thor remains Thor, Natasha has reached her deadly limits, the Hulk is impressive, but non-changing. But you, Tony, you can change. You can come up with a clever way to improve yourself, I'm sure. You can improve again and again and offer a challenge.'

'Flatterer,' Tony says. Loki likes to flatter people and he imagines Tony would be pleased to hear that. A small smile in the corner of his mouth, then he would ask, 'So, aside from changing the subject, what are you doing?'

And Loki would kiss him. He'd run his hand through Tony's hair, loosen a button on his shirt. 'I am happy to know that your lit chest device won't allow you to fall pray to magical enchantments. Or maybe it's your interesting mind that won't let you do it.'

'You're avoiding my question,' Tony says.

'And you're not real. Which is why I can picture pressing you against the wall hard, picture feeling your breath on mine, hearing you say you desperately want me. I can have my way with you, do any number of perverted things to you and swear you to secrecy as you die drowned in pleasure with me. But it's all unsatisfying.'

Loki ceased pacing and flopped onto the bed. No. A self-aware fantasy was too strange, too oddly real. The image should pretend to be real to remain an illusion. Especially when you were the god of mischief and could, as it were, create an image of Tony Stark and have it do things for you. To you. With you.

And herein was the problem. Loki, damn himself, _wanted_. Ever since studying Earth more carefully and observing his enemies, he had _wanted_.

Genius, playboy, scientist, inventor. Self-destructive tendencies, brilliant mind. An embarrassment to himself and his friends when having a bad day, a fierce diamond on the next day. Loki _wanted_. Tony Stark was _such_ a target, a megalomaniac target who was simply too high on a pedestal and needed to be brought down on his knees, preferably right in front of Loki. Of all the Avengers, it had to be this one, because Loki... yes, hear it world, Loki wanted. Because Tony was clever, brilliant, stupid, sparkling, the top of the world - and Loki wanted him broken and undone.

The Hulk was a stone who had no weakness except his stupidity. Loki was not interested. Bruce Banner was Hulk. Loki was not interested. Natasha was a steel rose, beautiful and hard and hiding nothing despite all the lies. Loki was almost, but not quite, interested. Thor was a hero made of muscle. Loki was not interested. Clint was too weak. Loki was not interested. Steve Rogers was simple and good. Loki was tempted to have him broken, but in the end he was not interested. It had to be Tony. Because what Loki really wanted was to be able to break and then have the pieces come back together in another way. He wanted to see imperfection ruined and perfection emerging. And, maybe, tears and pleading.

No, definitely tears and pleading.

'I want to strip you,' Loki told the Tony in his imagination. 'Tie you up. Hurt you. Caress you. I want to have you in my own prison and visit you day by day, seduce you and harm you until you come running in my arms. I want to have you here with me, in this cell, wear you out minute by minute until you cannot but give in. I want to push you in a corner, pin you to the wall and make you realize you cannot defend yourself against me and threaten you until you forget to bluff. And then I could be kind.'

'Has anybody ever told you you're deranged?' the imaginary Tony asked.

'Only the voices in my head,' Loki answered. 'When I make them do it.'


	2. Dream a Little Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony Stark doesn't mind dreaming and fantasizing. Oh, and Loki is about to be relocated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may notice some things about Tony's dream which may strike you as being too much of a coincidence. *hint, hint* They are. Too much of a coincidence. Just sayin'.
> 
> (15.02.2015: This chapter and the subsequent one have yet to be re-edited)

Tony turned on his side, opened his eyes and half-woke, something going on through his head over and over like a spoken alarm clock. He was aware that he was aroused and not very aware of much else, except he was in his bed and he'd dreamed he was somewhere else, somewhere high and dark. The sheets over him felt damp with sweat and he could remember it had been a nightmare that was also a wet dream and he listened to this thing repeating itself in his head over and over, remembering that it was what had startled him awake in the first place: "Freud would have a field day if he knew." 

At first the words didn't mean anything to him, but he listened and the words clarified themselves slowly. Tony felt bemused. What was it that Freud would have a field day if he knew?... A field day... Field. That rang a bell.

Fields. There was a memory of fields. A cottage on the edge of a forest, where Noah lived and two people of every profession would gather there every evening to discuss the end of the world. There were two water tanks that were connected through transparent pipes and they recycled water between them. Starfish and other water creatures that weren't quite fish appeared there, then disappeared, because the flood was underway. 

"I hate this house, I bought it overpriced because God said so," Noah was telling him. "But what do I do?... I'm a poor man and nobody will buy it from me, so I can't move."

Tony focused. He liked remembering his apropos of nothing, convoluted dreams that read like surreal fantasy. He didn't know if they meant anything, but they were amusing. He remembered that he'd told Noah that he should make a living from the house, advertise, get tourism. Noah should pretend he was a magician who replaced the sea creatures through a trick which tourists would try to discover because they wouldn't know it was actually a divine miracle, not a magician's illusions. It would keep them interested, bring money in.

What Noah didn't know in the dream, but Tony did, was that the miracle had been set up by Loki, who was sitting in a corner now and watching the flood of the world going on in the tanks without anybody knowing that they were all drowning. He wanted the world to be iced and people to drown, so he'd made sure the house wouldn't float when the flood came, but they'd all live because there were two men of each profession there and that caused humanity to survive.

The Tony that was awake and remembering this tried to decide whether that was his subconscious being ineffably wise or whether it was just being weird. The dream Tony, he remembered, had gone to talk to Loki and convince him to make the house lighter so they could fly without the aid of a zeppelin.

"You're a nasty piece of work, aren't you?" Tony asked. Loki was sitting in an armchair in Noah's house, sipping a banana (not a banana milkshake, or a banana cocktail, just a banana). "What are you doing?"

"Flooding," Loki told him.

"Am I going to drown and have you rip me apart?" Tony asked, because Loki seemed to want something from him. But he knew, even as he asked, that his arc reactor would protect him, that he could just fly over the flood. His arc reactor was wonderful, and Loki knew it, and Loki wanted it because it was what made Tony himself and where his heart and mind resided (the waking Tony decided not to wonder too much about what _that_ said of his self-perception). "Along with Noah and everybody else?"

"Everything is an illusion," Loki told him, then came closer. Somehow Tony was sitting now and Loki was leaning over him, kissing him and running his fingers through Tony's hair. And then Loki pushed Tony hard against the couch he was sitting on and nobody seemed to notice. ( _really?_ Tony asked himself. Everything is an illusion? Was that the best gnomic utterance his brain could come up with?) 

Tony let himself be pushed through the couch and fell backwards into the bedroom, because Noah was a dream and he didn't have any business talking to real people, like Loki and Tony. "I can save you," Loki told him. "I can take you straight up in the clouds and unwrap you from your clothes and you'll be all mine". And then Tony was naked and his clothes were mummy wrappings that held him against the bed and it wasn't really a bedroom they were in, but Tony's private jet and there were clouds, just like Loki had said. And then the god was all over him, kissing and biting. Tony remembered something. Flying meant sex in dreams. He didn't know what it meant in reality, but if this were a dream, Freud would have a field day if he knew. He told Loki that, and just then Loki spread his legs and pushed something in him and Tony repeated those words, and it turned out that Loki was pushing something soft in him to measure him inside, and Tony told him again that Freud would have a field day if he knew. Then Loki wrapped his fingers around his arousal and did _amazing_ things to it and those words lost their meaning and started repeating themselves over and over as Loki used his hand on him and made him feel as if he were just floating with pleasure.

The waking Tony could remember now what his arousal was all about. The sheets on him felt too close and too damp after the sensation of flying. It almost made him feel claustrophobic.

He sat up and noticed that next to him - he'd had his back towards her before - there was a Chinese girl, sleeping peacefully. Lin Lin, Xiao Xiao, Mew Mew, something like that. There was always a girl in his bed, so he didn't bother wondering about this one. Last night, he'd visited the Chinese embassy and the entertainment had consisted of a very elegant acrobatic dance which had made the dancers look as if they were floating (his arousal, catching the idea of floating, pulsed again). At the end of the show he'd talked to them and this girl had smiled at him in a very pretty way and he'd gotten her to come by his apartment. He supposed he could wake her now and go for another round of fun to cool himself off...

But then, he didn't like cheating in his affairs, such as they were. He might not know their names, might not care for them beyond an evening's fun, but somehow sinking into the girl while picturing himself tied up and at Loki's mercy was bad manners. 

He let her sleep - it was 4 AM and there was no point to wake her up for no reason. Maybe he'd shower and then go down to work on his suit and she'd go away without him having to bother to talk to her and play nice. JARVIS or Pepper could show her out later. Maybe even apologize. Did they apologize?... Tony would have to ask at one point. Well, as far as he was concerned the girls who came into his bed should know what to expect and if they didn't it was their fault. He didn't make his habits a secret. 

He went for a bathroom that wasn't close enough for the water to wake her. He set the water to warm and touched himself more to keep himself aroused than to solve his problem.

He didn't know whether to worry about the dream or not. There were a few levels on which he'd have worried in the past. The most obvious one had been taken care of long before. The first time he'd fantasized about a man he'd panicked for a whole two weeks, thinking that he was turning gay. Which turning gay would mean, to his strangely-wired mind at the time, that he would be aroused by women and not allowed to sleep with them. It had definitely not been the highlight of his mental processes. Granted, he had been sixteen and foolish and going through many other things at the time, but still. Later on, after he realized he was mostly straight with a dash of desire for men, homoerotic dreams stopped bothering him. 

That was when he then started being bothered by the fact that he dreamed of men who were assertive and dominated him. While he could dismiss his attraction to men because Alexander the Great and Cesar had it, he found this to be much more worrying. So he'd grabbed all the peer-reviewed psychology books he could find, threw them into JARVIS' database and programmed his favorite AI to secrecy. Then he'd sat back and gone through the whole couch routine to find out where the really worrying perversion fantasies came from. After a few long sessions, he and JARVIS had decided that his masculinity was not the issue - Tony didn't feel inwardly weak, nor did he secretly want to be a woman. He didn't want to be humiliated. He didn't even know what not being masculine meant and had to try hard to think of traits he didn't feel. It wasn't an issue of masculinity.

"I just want it out of my hands," he'd told JARVIS, and that had been the key to it all. What Tony really wanted, they had decided together at the end of that session, was to _really_ be able to let go and for the responsibility not coming back to hit him when he wasn't paying attention. "I'd've thought I had no problems being irresponsible," he'd told JARVIS.

"Maybe you feel guilty about it, sir," his AI had replied. And that was the way Tony looked at it now: he could be irresponsible, but he couldn't _really_ feel irresponsible. Hence his mind created scenarios that liberated him, willy-nilly.

But Loki? Maybe he could blame Darcy Lewis for Loki. She had explained to him a few days before that villains and heroes from TV shows had a hell of a lot of chemistry between them, which usually struck her as being very similar to unresolved sexual tension. 

Or maybe what his dream really wanted to tell him was that the Avengers thing was throwing responsibility on him and what he wanted was to be caught and lose those who depended on him, lose his spotlight, lose every voice of reason and just dive into feeling damned good and not giving a damn. Hence, Loki. A less dangerous Loki that wouldn't hurt him, just kidnap him and tie him up and do nice things to his body. A Loki who could take him away from it all. Who would have his hands and legs bound up, maybe close together, and he'd tell Tony to...

He was about to take... matters... in hand when the door to the shower opened. 

"Tony?" 

It was the Chinese girl. Ming Ming. Or Lulu. Or Tricia or something.

"What?" he asked. He heard his own voice, sharp and snappish. He didn't mean for it to come out that way, but it did. 

"I'm going to leave soon," she said. "I have to be at rehearsals at 6 AM."

There was something that caught his attention in that statement. She sounded human, normal. Friendly in the sense in which friends were people who didn't feel the need to demand attention, plead for something, show off or be obnoxious every time they spoke. Mika Mika was just a person. A naked, Chinese, female person that he'd slept with a few hours before, granted, but a person. "That's... harsh," Tony said.

She didn't move from the door, but she didn't look as if she were going to try anything, either. For some reason that made her remind him of Pepper. 

"Yeah, well," Nio Nio said. "There's... circumstances. We don't usually meet that early. A girl has a plane... But actually, what I wanted to... well. I am not sure if I will ever get to talk with you again in any semblance of intimacy, so I might not have the chance to imply this." She bit her lower lip again. Tony pleaded to high heaven that she wouldn't ruin everything by saying she was in love with him. Or that she had a dying grandmother who needed a lot of cash. "Thank you. It's been a wonderful night. You are a fun lover."

"Erm, thanks." He wondered if he should say 'you too'. It wouldn't sound very honest, because he had Loki on his mind and that distracted him from honestly thinking about her performance, which had happened sometime before Noah's flood. Then again, maybe it was impolite not to say it. And just as he was about to start saying it, because it _had_ been fun, now that he thought about it and put aside the crazy dreams, he realized it was too late and it would carry too much weight, so he didn't add anything. Let her think he was embarrassed. Which he was starting to be, because he should have said it.

Mimi bowed very slightly, not appearing to be waiting for a similar compliment. "I will be leaving now." 

A split-second decision. Why not do it? What did he have to lose? "Wait," Tony said. She was about to leave, but she turned back.

"Yes?"

"What's your name, again?"

She looked at him for a second, surprised. Then she laughed, a sincere, pretty laughter that seemed to cheer her up and get her out of nervousness. "Xiaolian, the Little Lotus. Tony Stark, I got into bed with you feeling certain that you would not chase me after tonight. I didn't know you'd go so far as to forget my name while I was still here."

"Yeah, thing is..." But he couldn't think of anything that didn't make him sound like a misogynist.

"It's alright," she said. "I choose to be amused. It is my firm belief in life that one should take things as they are and avoid being offended."

"Really?" He didn't keep his skeptic sarcasm out of his voice.

"No. But that sounds better than 'I wanted a one-night stand and you obliged me very nicely in bed, so I'll let it slip'. That just sounds shallow." The deadpan tone with which she said it startled a laugh out of him. "I should be going now. My apprentice Qiu will have to catch a plane at eight and there's this thing I need to teach her before she goes."

"Dancing?" 

"No. Life skills. She is off on her own to France and I must teach her who to beware and why so she doesn't accidentally compromise herself."

"Are you familiar with my AI, JARVIS?"

"I've heard about it."

"Just ask it for whatever you need." 

"Thank you."

"Have a nice day, Xiaolian." He used her name just to show that he could. 

"You too, Tony."

Then she was gone and he was alone. For a second he missed her, then realized he wouldn't have wanted her to stick around. He couldn't offer her one more round and he wanted to be alone. Still, she had been nice. Xiaolian. He could remember her name, he supposed. Store it in his memory, along with her face. A small courteous gesture for being amusing and human.

"JARVIS."

"Yes, sir?" 

"Is there anybody near?"

"No, sir. Xiaolian is just finishing getting dressed and I will not guide her this way as she goes out. I have requested a cab for her."

"Good. Tell me if anybody comes, JARVIS. I would really, really prefer not to be interrupted."

"I will, sir."

There were few chances of anybody coming there at 4 AM and there were even fewer chances that they'd see anything they hadn't seen before. Still, Tony needed to be alone for this. It felt much dirtier than usual. Others might not be able to see inside his head, but he wouldn't be able to refrain from feeling and looking guilty if they stumbled on him.

He took his half-hard erection in one hand and leaned against the wall, thinking of his dream and thinking of Loki, the memories of Xiaolian fading fast as he recalled a pale face, dark hair, green eyes. A manly body pushed him against the wall. He wasn't trapped in his shower, but he pretended he was. He pictured himself captured against Loki and the wall, pressed hard against the tiles. Loki's fingers sinking in his shoulders. Tony didn't allow himself to move any more than was necessary to bring himself into hardness again.

He pictured cold lips on his own, Loki's voice telling him that he was helpless, he was caught, he was entirely Loki's. He imagined himself struggling and being unable to get away. Loki, on his private jet, in the shower, sinking to his knees and telling Tony that he'd torture him by _making_ him cum. And Tony had to hang on despite the delicious mouth enveloping him - it would be a matter of pride, of not giving in. But Loki would be relentless, not giving him a moment's peace and there was only so much that a man could stand, but he had to hold on. A skilled mouth, the tongue swirling around his tip while fingers worked his base. Tony jerked his hips into his hand despite himself and pictured Loki telling him not to move.

He pictured his own struggles and curses. In his imagination he begged for the blow job to stop, but didn't mean it. He loved it, but nobody needed to know. He loved the way Loki's fingers sank into his hip, loved the way in which they would leave bruises. The god told him he would have to take it, he would have to submit, he would have to cum. And then Loki would suddenly go deep, deep, take him all in - and Tony exploded at that point, lips forming a 'no', mind forming a 'yes', and he spilled all over his fist. 

He breathed hard, feeling his heart pounding in his ears. He was screwed. He was completely, utterly screwed and everybody who knew him would just hate him if they knew. Tony Stark, dreaming of being forced to completion by Loki, dreaming of being tied up and used. Oh, he was screwed. But they'd never know. 

The water washed away the signs of his madness as he relaxed under the hot water. The sound of the shower became increasingly real as the fantasy went away. He wasn't sane, but then Tony had known for a long time that he wasn't really sane. 

Finally, he turned off the water and went back into his empty bedroom. It was half past now and he was tired. The sheets smelled of something they didn't usually smell of. Xiaolin's perfume, maybe. 

Tony wondered what Loki smelled like. He probably didn't use anything for scent, but what would his natural perfume be like?...

No, no point in wondering that. He had to go to bed and then he could put Loki, the dream and the fantasy aside. He could go back to normal and pretend it hadn't happened, just like that time when he'd fantasized about corrupting Steve Rogers.

"JARVIS."

"Yes, sir?"

"Do I have anything really important to do tomorrow?"

"Ms. Potts would think so, sir."

"Are you siding with her again?"

"I am certain I would know if I were."

Great. He'd programmed his AI to be clever. "What time?"

"Starting from noon."

"Then wake me up at 9 AM. I want to work on my suit."

"Very well, sir. Sleep well."

* * *

They came - a silent tide of shadows, sliding down the walls. One by one, two by two, light as feathers, quick as birds in flight. The darkness spread, spread, spread, gathering in the barracks and the training grounds. The Asgardians, fallen asleep under a spell, didn't notice them. It was not a trick that the shadows would be able to use again - it was barely certain that they could use it successfully now - but then, they only needed it the one time. 

In his cell, Loki waited. He wasn't asleep. They hadn't managed to put him to sleep, not a magic-user of his calibre. But there was something in his manner which said that he knew something was going on. His body was tense, his posture ready.

When the cell door opened, he turned to look.

"Come," one of them said. It was a tall, black creature. It had the shape of an Asgardian - two legs, two arms, but aside from that it had nearly nothing in common with Loki's adoptive species. Its face was creased with deep marks, maybe half a centimeter deep. It looked as if it had been sculpted in stone and it had about as much flexibility. Its eyes were the only thing that glittered, the rest of the details of its body being lost in the black-on-black colour scheme that its kind had been gifted with. To take the theme to its logical extreme, most of its body was hidden under a cloak almost as dark as a hole in the world. 

"No," Loki said. "I don't want to be rescued. The penalty for leaving is too high. I want to regain my status as an Asgardian." He said it like a prince, like a hero. 

"This isn't a choice." It has a rasping voice now. Maybe it was the way it showed anger. "I am not _asking_ , Loki Odinson. I am telling you that you _will_ come."

"And I am telling you that I am not."

The struggle that ensued was long. Loki, even if denied most of his magic, could still work enough of it to dance circles around individuals of the creature's kind. But they kept coming and there was no place for him to retreat. He swore, he struggled, he hit as hard as he could, but in the end he was overpowered and dragged out of his cell in a bind, the shadows carrying him and their injured. He was dragged past his old comrades, past training grounds he knew by heart, past gods who weren't aware of just how vulnerable they were. The creatures left them alone. Soon enough they had all retreated as easily and as stealthily as they had come and slipped out of Asgard and into their own home world, taking Loki with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a better parallel universe I wouldn't have to write this because it would be obvious. In this universe, riddled with Mary Sue fanfics as it is, this note may unfortunately be necessary. I have a female OC in this chapter. She's Chinese, she's a dancer, she's pretty, she's in Tony's bed. Do you know what she's not?... A Mary Sue. 
> 
> She wasn't really meant to be here, but I challenged myself to humanize one of Tony's one-night stands. And then I figured that I could keep her because an outsider who doesn't save the world and who isn't part of the inner circle of the Avengers (and who has a life, more or less) is fun, perspective-wise. 
> 
> Now, if you're thinking 'Sarshi, but the story is Loki/Tony, what's she doing in Tony's bed?', I can only respond 'mates, it's Tony, he's a playboy. It's what he does, remember?'


	3. Rescue Me, Rescue You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony plans on rescuing Loki, Amora plans on kidnapping Thor and some women are not sane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... Sorry for the long wait. Between the last chapter and this one I did a hellll of a lot of stuff. Like become a Master of Arts and travel a lot and install Linux and go through days of sleep and whatnot for recovery. I'm back and kicking now, though.
> 
> Enjoy.

After two weeks, three Loki-dreams and some flying in his modified suit, Tony was leisurely watching a TV show. Because, after all, nothing special had happened to interrupt the new routine his life was settling into. 

He had opened Stark Tower to the Avengers, which had quickly become the Avengers plus extended circle. Now there was a sort of nearly-constant film-group thing going on, with various people participating at random. Most of the time Tony wasn't there to play host because he had tech to work on and inventions to think of, or women to sleep with, or meetings to attend, but that didn't bother anyone and Tony liked having somewhere to crash (socially) in relatively friendly society. 

Steve was one of the usuals, not having much to do in the modern world and needing to catch up with much of it. He watched films when others were there, or had JARVIS explain the internet to him. Nick Fury had dropped in once and sulkily watched a romantic comedy. Nobody knew what the hell that was about. Bruce Banner was a Discovery Channel man through and through - when he was depressed. They had decided, with some reluctance and embarrassment, that they liked him depressed because otherwise he wanted to watch European dramas and nobody else had the patience. Incidentally, not even the Hulk had patience, coming out once just to demand they switch to action movies (he'd actually said 'explosions and smashing', but that was a pretty clear hint). After all, there was only so much Dekalog one could watch at a time.

Natasha was apparently a fan of cyberpunk - everybody else but Tony would have bet their money on James Bond films would be her thing, but Tony assumed that she liked those as much as he liked those New Age 'scientists' explaining the world via scraps of science they didn't really get. Tony didn't have anything against sci fi, though. Sci fi overtly said it was made up and generally parodied science (he thought it did, anyway. It did, didn't it? They didn't seriously believe some of the stuff they said, no?...)

At this very moment the group lying about and watching the show consisted of Tony himself, Steve, Natasha and Darcy Lewis. Steve was comfy in his armchair, Natasha was lounging on the couch like a queen, Darcy was rocking herself in a distinctly non-rocking chair and Tony had ended up on the floor somehow. 

Tony couldn't remember exactly how it had come to happen that Darcy became one of the group. Thor had started dating Jane Foster, which was why he remained on Earth so much, but Jane wasn't all that interested in hanging about with military people and playboy billionaires. Tony had decided that she was shallow, both as a scientist and as a person - but that may have been influenced by her failing to be interested in or impressed by Tony's inventions. Thor didn't like films, so the two were usually off somewhere, doing something and not being very interesting. But on one rare Thor plus Jane visit, Darcy had tagged along and she'd somehow gotten caught up in explaining popular culture to Steve and contradicting Tony about some political issues. Then Jane had left and Darcy had stayed awhile longer and proposed meeting for a film. Tony thought she had spunk and a personality, but that may have been influenced by her being suitably impressed by Tony's inventions, then proceeding to be snarky about his public appearances anyhow.

Maybe she'd wanted to hang around with the 'cool kids' and planned the strategy in advance. Or maybe she liked the rich environment of Stark Tower. Tony often left people the impression that he wasn't very savvy of profiteering bastards, what with throwing parties and sleeping around, but what those people tended to fail to realize was that he didn't actually get close with those who ended up in his bed or at his parties. He loved the attention and the cheering his admirers freely offered, but he was healthily cynical, so the thoughts of profit and money-hunger crossed his mind every time he met somebody who seemed to be friendly of their own accord.

But he liked Darcy. If she was acting the part, she was one hell of an actress, keeping her act up through quite a lot of visits until it just made sense that she'd stick around. She now came and went as she pleased, she got along fine with Pepper and made people smile after they fought with Tony. She had definitely infiltrated Stark Tower, but since she was an asset for the group Tony was going to let it go, while keeping an eye on her.

...Actually, that wasn't actually true, even if he kept insisting to himself that it was. Despite his default cynicism, he was thinking of her as a sort of friend now. The sort of friend who wasn't very close, like Pepper or Rodney, but who was nice and chatty while not stealing his silver spoons and therefore not requiring a constant watch. This was, in Tony's book, quite the friendly assessment. He must really like her.

"Oh, oh, oh! I love this scene," Darcy said. 

Tony threw her a glance. "Don't spoil."

"Wasn't gonna."

There was this angel on the show they were watching - except he looked very much like a man and was as clueless about humans as a frost giant, so he wasn't an _angel_ angel. And right now he seemed to be... were those porn sounds from the TV he was watching?... Tony could recognize porn sounds anywhere and he wondered what they were doing on this relatively family-friendly show.

"That's very complex," the angel said, cocking his head. The two dunderheads who were the main characters and who made the universe a slightly worse place every time they tried to improve it – Tony wasn't very pleased with their IQ level - grunted in half-attention as they read some books about supernatural creatures or something. Tony hadn't been paying much attention. "If the pizzaman truly loves this babysitter, why does he keep slapping her rear?" 

Tony snickered. So! Corrupting the innocent – the very innocent, in this case. An actual angel, well, well... There were reasons he was still watching the show and the amount of crazy in it was one. He threw another look towards Darcy, who was giggling quite cheerfully.

"Thank god they don't keep the BDSM on hand, eh?" he said, winking. "If the pizzaman truly loves this babysitter, why does he tie her up in unholy positions and bless her with the hot wax of holy candles all over her breasts?" 

Darcy laughed harder. Tony noticed Steve wasn't laughing, but looking around, caught between embarrassment and amusement and trying to figure out how he should react. He cracked up. Making Steve uncomfortable was a fun game – he might as well enjoy it before he desensitized.

It was then that Thor walked in the room and gravely took in the scene before him (not the one on TV; the one with people laughing and Steve uncomfortable). Tony tried to calm down, because Thor's face said something grave had happened and it wouldn't do to howl with laughter if Thor had been sent by Jane to do her groceries and he had been unable to figure out what tampons were. Again. 

...Tony didn't really manage to calm down, but Thor boomed anyway: "I have news."

"Shush, you're ruining Supernatural," Darcy said.

Thor went on. "My brother has been kidnapped."

Darcy paused the TV, muttering "timing." Then, louder, "do you want me to go away or something?"

"No need. These are not confidential matters, Darcy Lewis."

Tony didn't really get that idea as soon as it was said. His mind, instead of going to the actual Loki he had helped capture, went back to his dirty dreams and fantasies. He dismissed them, but he still couldn't figure out what the hell he was supposed to say to that. 'Let's rescue him'?... 'Jee, I hope he's fine'?... Luckily, others were more in tune with the current reality.

"Who kidnapped him?" Natasha asked. 

"The Svartálfar."

Tony wasn't sure that he could even pronounce that on a first try. "The whatnow?"

"The black elves. They... usually kept to themselves." Thor searched for words. Steve, Natasha, Tony and Darcy waited patiently as he did so, eyes on him. "They are not known for their benevolence. We do not know whether they want to start a war."

"So why kidnap Loki?" Darcy asked. 

"We do not know. They have made no demands. They may want a ransom. Or they may want to use him against us."

"That's one hell of a weak spot you've got there," Tony noticed. "I know I can't say about anybody in my life that they're a liability no matter what."

"Damn," Darcy said, with feeling. "There goes our movie night.”

Steve finally added something to the conversation. “This is more important than a movie, Darcy.” He was looking all proper again. Maybe his being proper was a coping mechanism to help him survive being thrown into the future, although as it happened it wasn't the best one. Not the worst, either – you had to give him some credit for not being self-destructive.

Darcy was holding her own, politely. “I know, that's why I'm not really whining about it. Better start preparing to get Loki back, whether it's to rescue him or whatever. I'll go call everybody to a meeting while you start doing whatever you're going to be doing. I'll also go and order some food so we don't starve. Tony, can I impose on your filthy wealth and order some bloody expensive sushi?"

"This isn't a party," Steve told her. "It would be inappropriate."

Natasha gave a small 'hmm', then said, "I'd like sushi.”

“Then sushi it is,” Tony said. “Let's make it a rescue party.”

“Lame pun,” Natasha pointed out.

“It's inappropriate,” Steve muttered again. The propriety was definitely a coping mechanism. He didn't seem to put his heart into it right now.

“Let us seek out my brother!” Thor said, apropos of nothing that they were just saying.

* * *

A few hours later, Tony wasn't the only one feeling frustrated with Thor. His manner of conveying information about anything was worse than the strict need-to-know basis of SHIELD. He would forget some things, go back to describe some other things, assume that there were ideas that everybody was familiar with – even though human beings clearly weren't. Piecing everything together had turned into a strange puzzle game for which the whole scientific inquiry skills of both Tony and Bruce were necessary. They devised the right questions to ask, pieced things together, tried to come up with general laws of the functioning of specific magic, tested theories – and Natasha and Clint tried their best to devise a strategy based on what the others had found out. Darcy played hostess, asked a few helpful questions of her own and generally made Steve feel better since he didn't have much to contribute to the conversation, being neither a strategist nor a scientist. 

The sushi was a success. 

“So what you're basically saying,” Tony said at one point, rubbing his forehead tiredly, “is that there is no way to stealthily enter the land of these elves since we don't have Loki's skills. We'd be fighting an entire world, with whom we probably couldn't negotiate because they're more likely to try to shoot us on sight.”

“Tony, do you have any invisibility stuff?” Darcy asked. “I remember some sort of presentation on things like that on Youtube.”

“I could make something,” Tony said, dubiously. “Not something very good, though.”

“Then we could break into their world,” Natasha said. “Fight as if we meant it, then retreat when things gets serious. Meanwhile send an invisible agent on a mission to find out where Loki is, rescue him, and return with him. With the only issue being that there would be no way to find out when to open a portal for the person to come back.”

“And that only works if we're _rescuing_ Loki,” Darcy pointed out. “He's not an object. If we're rescuing him, he can help the person get him out via his neat stealth skills. If we're recovering him...”

“One person would not be sufficient to bring him down,” Natasha finished. 

“I wish we'd get a 'mwahahaha' message, or a 'help me' message,” Darcy said. “It'd make our lives easier.”

“Except we couldn't be sure that either of those messages would be sincere,” Tony intervened. “This is Loki, remember? God of mischief and lies? He could be drawing us into a trap, for all we know. The question that really stands is what does Loki want?”

“What if this has nothing to do with us?” Clint suggested. “What if the reason we have no message at all is that Loki's kidnapping is not directed towards the Asgardians or humans in any way?” 

Darcy leaned back in her chair, stretching. “I'm off to get us more tea. My head's about to blow up.”

“There are too many unknown factors,” Bruce said, taking off his glasses and rubbing his temple. “The only thing I can think of that would work in any given case would be to throw an army at them and take back Loki whether he wants to be taken back or not.”

“That would start a war, which we do not want,” Thor said.

“Why don't we wait some?” Tony asked. “Why don't we just wait and see what happens? It's Loki, for god's sake. He probably has more plans than we do, he knows his situation and if my knowledge of him is of any use, he can take care of himself most of the time.”

“Not always,” Thor said.

Tony shrugged. “So not always. But he did fine with us. Maybe we should watch out for any fishy stuff, in case he's planning against us and... Thor, is there any way to send a message to somebody in a stealthy way? So we can question Loki? Find out _something_?”

The thunder god considered. “There might be. I remember it being said that Loki has a way of finding things out, a magical way that we could perhaps trace down...”

Tony's phone rang. He looked at the screen, saw 'Nick Fury' displayed there and threw the call at the TV screen, figuring that everybody could profit from hearing whatever it was he had to say. Nick Fury did not make social calls and if he'd heard about the Loki situation he probably had some helpful input. Or some unhelpful input. Either way, Tony didn't want to repeat whatever he said to everybody.

In the room, heads turned towards the screen, where the 'Nick Fury' call message appeared with Fury's photo glaring at them. 

“What does he want, I wonder,” Natasha said in a tone that made it clear that what she was actually saying was _answer the damned phone already_. Tony pressed the right button and the call went visual. 

The person that was on the other end of the line was a chick that looked vaguely familiar. Beautiful. Curly hair. Brown eyes. Somewhat like Tony's type – and looking nothing like Fury.

“Who are _you_?” Tony asked. The woman, who had been about to say something, stopped. 

“Don't you remember me?”

“You look vaguely familiar. Please tell me you're not Nick Fury after a sex-swap operation. That would be creepy.”

“My name,” she said icily, “is Theresa Woodstone.”

“Doesn't ring any bells,” Tony said.

And then she started screaming. It was unexpected, over the top and mostly weird. The assembled Avengers, plus Darcy coming out of the kitchen, plus Pepper who was just coming in the room, were all treated to an anti-Tony tirade. The gist of the story was that Tony had slept with Theresa a few months before and she was grievously insulted that he had forgotten her. Perhaps everybody would have found her much more sympathetic if she'd switched off the metaphorical caps lock one in awhile.

“You have horrible tastes in women,” Natasha mouthed at him. 

He couldn't mouth back as well, since Theresa was keeping her eye on him, so he sent Natasha a text message. _One-night stand, not date. Hot, not sane._ Natasha read the message, looked at the woman again, cocked her head, then nodded reluctantly. If you chose them for looks and not brains, Theresa was along the lines of 'good taste'. 

Eventually she finished, but only because Clint stepped in and asked why she was filling in for Fury. 

“There's a threat in the city,” Theresa said, pulling her act together. “Probably an Asgardian. You need to look into it.” As she gave them the details, Tony wrote a message to Pepper, asking her to tell Nick Fury that his current replacement was as far from a pro as you could get and he should look into finding somebody more competent – aka, somebody who wouldn't waste possibly precious minutes yelling at Tony for personal reasons. Play was play and work was work and the safety of the city was more important than wounded pride or a stray lover forgetting your name.

When Theresa was done and turned off the call – probably the last one she'd be making in Fury's stead – Tony told Pepper to get a bouquet of white lilies sent to a woman.

“To Theresa?” Pepper said, skeptically. “Really?”

“I wouldn't have thought you were one to grovel to that sort over there,” Clint said with a careless wave of the hand towards the screen.

“Not Theresa. This other girl, with the Chinese dances group we saw a couple of weeks ago. Little Lotus is her name – Xiaolin, Xiaolian, something like that.”

“Oh?” Pepper said, skeptically. “Is there...” she paused, uncertain how to continue, then finished vaguely, “something I should know?”

Tony shrugged. “Not really. Write her a note saying, 'Thanks for not slapping me back then. It's much appreciated. Tony.'”

“That sounds like a story,” Darcy said. “You have to tell it to me when you get back.”

“It's a very short one. I forgot her name, asked her about it, and she repeated it. No fuss.”

Clint grinned and Tony could feel the dirty thoughts oozing off of him even before he started speaking. “Did you cry out the wrong name?”

Steve sighed. “Don't be crude.”

“No,” Tony intervened. “I don't cry out names at all. In my line of romance it's too risky. Come on, let's figure out what that threat is all about. Then we can come back and figure out what to do about Loki.”

* * *

Tony never got to go back and plan Loki's capture/rescue/whatever.

When he woke he found that his arms and legs were held in cuffs that were chained to the posts of a very comfortable and very disturbing four-poster bed. It looked like something from a BDSM fantasy that included a princess, corrupted innocence and Tony playing the role of the ingénue. There were many pillows and silk sheets and drapes and iron chains that seemed to have been made to hold somebody with the strength of Thor, not Tony. He could see embroideries and he could see an iron mace and iron pliers and some things that looked damned spiky.

He found that, while chained, he could still move. He could bring his hands and legs together, he could sit and even stand on the bed, but he didn't have enough leeway to get off of it. He would have thought that he'd just gotten very drunk the night before and ended up in a weird sex setting if the scenery had looked just a bit familiar, or if his head didn't hurt from what he assumed was a hell of a strong blow.

He could remember planning to rescue Loki – but surely Loki wouldn't hold him in this sort of setting. Loki would have more taste, he supposed – and be less girly. No, there was something else. He remembered something about a threat, about an Asgardian. He could remember suiting up and going off to find out what that was all about. And then some green and something about Thor. And a woman. A very beautiful, blond woman. 

He vaguely remembered magic and Thor in danger, now that he tried to piece it together. It felt like a dream he'd had, just as hard to catch, but coming back the more he awoke instead of going away. Yes, she'd been aiming at Thor, who'd been busy fighting a huge dude with an ax, and then Tony had jumped in front of the magic spell and...

Damn. He'd probably gotten knocked out.

...So. Chained. To a bed. This was promising. If by 'promising' you meant 'weird as fuck and probably on the fast track towards becoming really, really unpleasant for Princess Tony'.

* * *

Loki was in another jail. The black elf jail. It had taken a lot of maneuvering to get there. Before setting off to not conquer Midgard he'd taken the shape of an ice giant and had met with a black elf to whom he had hinted that a war with the white elves would be in order, _if only_ they had somebody like Loki working for them. 

It had been much more complicated than that, of course, but that had been the gist of it. So the black elves, always a clever bunch, had thought that they could maybe get Loki to work for them and conquer the white elves. 

Loki liked clever people. All they needed were hints. 

From the corner of his eye he saw a white shape approaching. It wasn't coming from the right side of the room, although at a cursory glance it would have appeared to be so. Instead, it was growing larger and larger on what seemed to be a path coming _through_ the wall, or from behind it, or at some strange angle with it. Loki though of it as a 'starpath' and used it to travel between worlds when he wasn't busy getting thrown out from them or being transported otherwise.

“Fenrir,” he said and stretched out a hand. The shape, which was actually a giant wolf, fully entered the cell and nuzzled his hand. It didn't whine, nor did it wag its tail. It was a very dignified-looking beast and it glanced up at Loki, sharing its thoughts with him in quite a literal fashion.

The Asgard were worried. The ice giants were furious with Loki; they could be stirred against the black elves, if necessary. Midgard was being Midgard. Amora had attempted to kidnap Thor, but had gotten Tony to fall into her trap instead and the last the wolf had seen of her, she had cursed Tony for his damnable heroic stunt.

“Damnable indeed,” Loki said. “He seems to enjoy throwing himself at danger.”

He thought back at the wolf – he didn't like Amora having anybody trapped. She was growing unstable and there was no telling as to what she would do to her pray. Thor would have had a grace period during which she'd have tried to seduce him, deluded as she was into thinking he could want her when she was being insane. Tony had no such privilege. 

He looked through Fenrir, then, his attention caught by the wold. He searched for he knew not exactly what, but knowing he would recognize it when he saw it. And yes, there it was.

The legends said that Fenrir Loki's son. The truth was that he both was and wasn't. Fenrir had no mother and no father, in the strict biological sense. He was a creation, not a creature. Loki had made him piece by piece, bringing his body together through magic, giving him life through his own breath – and then he had created his mind and soul with a part of Loki's self as model. He was an experiment, a creation, one which was supposed to be one with Loki, his eyes and ears - but capable of functioning on his own. Initially he had been much like one of Tony's robots, something to tell 'do, this, do that' to, even if it could do basic functions on its own. But, Loki's personality being what it was, Fenrir had grown to be more than that. 

“You're almost a different being now, aren't you,” Loki said. And he was pleased. He liked the _idea_ of Fenrir. Another being built like himself – it meant that he could trust him, rely on him, command him, knowing what to expect. Fenrir, his creation based on himself, becoming real and different and capable of being something special. He was narcissistic enough to love that.

“Tony's captured by Amora...” Loki said, thoughtfully, his thoughts splitting and going each and every way, between the joy he had in Fenrir, some worry for Tony, and cold calculation. “That is... inconvenient for him. She will not like her mistake and she will have no mercy.”

He sat down on the floor of the cell. There was nowhere else to sit, the entire room empty, the walls carved in solid stone. He could get out, of course. The black elves had no notion of his travel method, so they had no way of defending against it, meaning that he could leave at any time. He would have preferred not to – the plan was that he would be reluctant to help at first, then he'd strike a deal in exchange for a very special sort of artifact, then he would fight on their side, then escape and help out the white elves against the black elves in exchange for another very special sort of artifact. 

Could he do all that after escaping?... Well, he had to recalibrate some. Why would he help the black elves after escaping? Why would he not hold a grudge? Why would he make common cause with this people which he would normally not be concerned with?

Two hours later, he was still petting Fenrir, whose huge head was on Loki's lap. There was a way. Maybe a more convenient one, better than the original one. He would escape, leave a note saying he was grateful to be rescued from the Asgardians, but not very grateful to be imprisoned. He would make an offer to hear them out and see what they wanted – negotiate as a prince and magic-wielder, not as a prisoner. There would be some other political dances involved as well, to make everything look more credible but yes, in essence it was doable. 

“I'm breaking out,” he told Fenrir. “And getting Tony before Amora breaks him.”

* * *

Amora was insane, Tony thought, although he didn't make the mistake of saying it out loud. She was a freaking insane bitch who had cut off his clothes and ranted against his 'sacrifice' and had sworn she would literally fuck him to death, which was a lot more scary than he'd ever thought it would be. 

Tony was _actually_ scared. He was more scared than he had ever been when threatened with physical violence, because then he'd kept his will intact and his failing body somewhat under control. Amora, on the other hand, had raged against not being able to hypnotize him and then had made him drink some sort of drugged potion that made his libido go sky-high – it felt like magical Viagra, he supposed, although he'd never taken viagra and was quite sure that it didn't make your brain _this_ fuzzy. 

He really, really didn't like this at all and hated the fact that his hips were humping to the sound of her voice. Fucking bitch. He didn't like this and he didn't like the idea of being somebody's experimental toy. He remembered, vaguely, that somebody had once told him that while strength was frightening and cruelty even more so, it was madness that could make most men shiver because it knew no bounds, no inhibitions and no reason.

“I'm going to break you,” Amora said. “Piece by piece. Make you succumb to my will, make you my servant, then send you out to get me Thor.”

Yeah, right, Tony thought. He'd have to fake it and pretend to be brainless and then get away ASAP. Tony Stark did not do slave to the insane very well. But even so, he found himself growing hotter and hotter at the thought of being broken and taken apart. Brainless slave, the drug in his system said, mmm, hot. 

“I will then skin you alive, piece of skin by piece of skin.” Tony wondered if she could do that with her mouth and shivered, his eyes glazing over as Amora turned then to some sound she heard. “Who's there?” she called. Which, Tony thought, was rather cliched, as cliched as the bad girl attitude and the evil threats and the tall boots and skimpy outfit. Even the madness would have been a cliché, had she been _less_ afflicted with it. But the Viagra drug was definitely not a cliché. And it was running rampant, getting more and more of him under control even as he tried to retain a cool head.

He started hiccuping. Probably from the drug.

“Amora.”

Holy fuck, he thought, it was Loki. His day just kept getting better, and he meant that ironically. Also, his cock just kept getting harder, which he did not mean ironically. He looked at Amora and saw she seemed to be just as unhappy about Loki being there as he was. This made Tony's mood turn a sudden 180 degrees and he decided he was really happy Loki was there. 

Not that it mattered whether he was happy or not. He was chained to a bed, for fuck's sake. But he was happy, and his fantasies came back, and that was his undoing.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Amora snapped.

Loki was not impressed. “I want him.”

Tony moaned at that. He was ignored, which just wouldn't do. “Yeah, I'd prefer him, too,” he said. Loki and Amora turned towards him. “More sane.” He hiccuped then, which, due to the fact that his mouth was open from speaking, sounded as if he were a honking goose. “If he chained me to a four-poster bed, I bet he'd be less creepy.” He hiccuped again, honking goose sound and all. Tony closed his mouth.

“What _did_ you give him,” Loki deadpanned. “He's a sorry sight.”

“I'm not giving him to you,” Amora said. “He will be bait to get Thor.”

“Thor won't fall for that!” Tony cried out from friendship. Then hiccuped, this time with his mouth closed. He decided that this time he didn't sound like a goose, but like a human. A very startled human. “Even if Loki ties me up to the bed.”

“Yes, he would fall for that,” Loki said. “But that's not the point. I need Tony Stark and I will have Tony Stark.” A pause as he incredulously watched Tony writhe just from hearing that idea. “Your own plot is of no concern to me because all you really want is to magically make Thor fall in love with you. Which is pathetic.”

“Loki,” she said, trying – and failing – to loom over Loki and intimidate him, “you would do well not to underestimate me.”

“Don't worry, honey,” he said, his voice pure sarcasm, “I assure you there's no way I could underestimate you.”

Tony watched with interest as Loki lunged and caught Amora off-guard. She stumbled and fell on the floor, with Loki following her and landing on her chest, knocking the breath out of her and pinning both her arms over the head with his left hand, while choking her with his right. She passed out not long after that. “That's so physical of you,” Tony said. “It makes me horny.”

Loki looked up at him, threw a spell at Amora, then got up and smelled the glass placed on the nightstand next to Tony and which contained some traces of the drug that had been fed him. “I think seeing a key shoved in a door would make you horny right now,” Loki told him. “This was never meant for humans.” He took Tony's face in his hand and looked at him from different angles. “Yes, the effects are going to get stronger before they lessen...”

“Am I going to die?” Tony asked. “Because they used to call death the big orgasm. If that's how it goes...”

Loki actually managed to look befuddled. “Who the hell said that?” 

“The French. It's why so many people want them dead. Or bedded. Or both.” 

Loki chose not to reply to that, but undid his cuffs and wrapped him in a sheet. The little that was left of Tony's reason said that it was for purposes of carrying him more easily, or as some sort of protection from the elements wherever they were going. But the rest of his brain was too much on fire to care. He moaned as he felt it press against him, said something along the lines of bondage being cool, then humped against said sheet for less than a minute until he brought himself off under Loki's perplexed gaze. 

“The only reason I let you do that,” Loki told him, “is that you're going to really hate yourself for it once the drug is out of your system.”

“You watched 'cause you're an exhibitionist,” Tony told him, proud that he'd managed to get that word right. “And I am so awesometastic that I let you do it.”

Loki sighed, put a finger on Tony's forehead and sent him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope you liked that. There's more to come and it'll be fun. I'm cackling evily, btw.


End file.
